India is a fascinating country where the ancient and the modern starkly juxtapose one another in the most unexpected ways. It's a place where you can glimpse hundreds and sometimes thousands of years back in time at monuments that weather the centuries, and yet each moment you are reminded of life's fragility. The immediacy of moment-to-moment transactions is intense, but so is an intimate connection with the ancient past.

Here, you share the world with animals, even in urban environments. Animals aren't just pets to be domesticated. They have their own agendas, and they may even compete with you for resources. Buffalo and camels are also an important milk source.

And everywhere, there is tea.

Shop keepers are expected to offer it while you shop. Many shops will sit you down for tea and go into a sales presentation while you drink it.

Even the smallest and seemingly insignificant parts of life revolve around this beverage.

At this time in my life, I was intent on learning to play tablas, and-- after we all drank tea-- I took a lesson from this harmonium player.

Drinking tea together is a prelude to activity. Like the toast, it is a ceremony that establishes mutual good will for whatever interaction will follow.

Taj Mahal

But tea wasn't always so popular in India.

In the mid 1600s during construction of the Taj Mahal, the tea trade was dominated by China. India wouldn't become a source of tea until the East India Tea Company encountered difficulties with Chinese tea trade. In the 1830s Britain began actively planning tea production in India, and full tea plantations were up and running by the 1880s.

Wildly popular India tea demonstrations at the London, Paris, and Melbourne Exhibitions helped increase tea interest in Britain and Australia. But in the 1890s, domestic consumption of Indian tea was very low. The India Tea Association changed this in 1901 when they launched a campaign to create a domestic market for tea. They travelled door to door and performed tea demonstrations for families. The association also hired several people and sent them through India to encourage grocers to carry more tea in stores. Things changed when factories and industrialism came to India. Tea traders encouraged factories to have tea stations and tea breaks. By 1919, tea was a major player in domestic beverage consumption.

But the India Tea Association identified what they considered to be a problem. Domestic tea drinkers had begun adding more milk and sugar than recommended, and they also began adding spices. The ITA took issue because people used less tea leaves and more spices, minimizing the tea consumption. One tea campaigner wrote back to the India Tea Association, "Steps are now being taken to have this remedied. It is in the Cawnpore Mill area that we have found this so-called spiced tea... and we are now employing our own hawkers in that district who sell well-made liquid tea in direct competition to the unsavoury and badly prepared decoction known as 'spiced tea.'" (Collingham 2006:197)

Flavoring milk-based drinks with spices has been a part of Indian cuisine for centuries. British tea drinkers viewed spiced tea as an adulteration of tea, but domestic producers of masala chai saw it simply as adding tea to a spiced milky beverage that they already consumed.

Tea in India is inextricably linked with the baggage of exploitation and colonialism. Masala chai is an important beverage that India used to maintain a type of autonomy during the period of British exploitation. When masala chai became popular, it functioned as a subtle form of domestic passive resistance against British domination. Masala chai was a way of absorbing an element of British culture that was practically being forced down their throats, while changing it enough to assert a feeling of personal ownership over the drink.

When a beverage is delicious, affordable, and has popular momentum, there is almost no stopping it. Now, a century later, you can buy a cup of masala chai at any corner cafe. Though 'chai' means 'tea,' and 'masala' means 'spice mix,' the word 'chai' has come to take a new global vernacular meaning of 'spiced tea.'

Buffalo milk with a friend.

The milk you use is pretty important, too. Camel milk and buffalo milk both came highly recommended.

We had gone out into the night down a tiny alley and found some guys cooking hot milk in what looked like a wok. They stirred the milk in the wok over a fire until it boiled, then poured the contents into cups and handed them out. A milk-skin cheese formed on top of your drink, and we ate it.

I took a sip-- it had been sweetened slightly, it was rich and warm. Milk like this-- wow. It was a long way from the plastic-like pasteurized milk I grew up on.

In many regions, masala chai is usually made with buffalo milk, but this is difficult to find in the US.

Joe in Jaipur.

In Jaipur, we took a break on this rooftop before heading out to see some of the architecture.The hotel manager came up with some tea, and I walked over to Joe to drink it. Right after I snapped this photo, we drank one of the most delicious cups of tea in our life. It was simple masala chai, but it was life changing.

Did they use buffalo milk? Did they use... camel milk? Was it the sugar or the spice blend? I'll never know what made that tea so mind-searingly delicious, but I will always remember that moment. I make masala chai every couple of weeks or so, trying to get back to that place... and it's hit or miss. Sometimes I nail it just right-- but if you let the leaves steep too long you will quickly end up with a tannin, bitter brew. Steep them not long enough and your tea will be watery.

The spices are fun to play around with too. Sometimes I go crazy and put in tons of cardamon. Sometimes I go heavy on the cinnamon. But a life without spice? Chai without cardamom? It's unfathomable.

The makings of masala chai.

I have a friend who lived with her boyfriend in a hilltop apartment that overlooked the Himalayan Mountains. They had a small paradise, but she had to break up with him, she says, because he hated cinnamon and refused to put it in her morning chai. Tea without the spice? It can be a real dealbraker; both for my friend, and for all the masala chai drinkers who brought this beverage into existence despite being 'taught' by colonists to make it a different way.

BibliographyCollingham, Lizzie. (2006). "Chai: The Great Tea Campaign." Curry: A Tale of Cooks & Conquerors. pp 187-214. New York: Oxford University Press.Standage, Tom. (2005) A History of the World in 6 Glasses. New York: Walker. (p211-220)

Sean Thackrey is one of the more interesting people making wine in California. Once an art dealer in San Francisco, he moved to Bolinas, planted some vines, and started sourcing fruit from friends. His collection of ancient texts-- some almost 1,000 years old-- helps to inform his winemaking philosophies. He'll make wine as they did centuries ago. At times, he will leave the harvested grapes out under the stars to ferment, then name these wines after the constellations that oversee their transformation.

This Orion is from vines that were 90 years old at the '96 harvest, from the Rossi vineyard in St. Helena. The grapes were planted just before WWI & Prohibition, and survived both.

This was quite a beautiful wine-- stunning really-- and Thackrey has certainly succeeded in revealing the individuality of this particular vineyard, which--at the time-- he believed to be mostly syrah. Since then, Carol Meridith at UC Davis has DNA-identified the vines as mostly petite sirah.*

One thing that always strikes me about Thackrey's wines are the complex aromatics. The nose is always changing and dancing, as images dance through a fog or mist as you pass by them, so do aromas emerge and retreat to and from these wines. Sometimes you'll smell purple flowers, then meat, then your grandma's house. It's such interesting wine to drink, and soul stirring.

*Thanks to Allan Bree for pointing out the research that led to the Rossi vine identification as petite sirah. An earlier version of this post left the possible vineyard genetics in question. -April 23rd 2014

Pegasus Bay, one of the more interesting producers in the Waipara region of New Zealand, have been doing their own thing since the 1970s. They have helped to put Waipara on the map, and also have helped New Zealand wines make a splash in the global market.

The Donaldson family is as interesting as their wines. They run a restaurant at the winery, and matriarch Christine loves the opera and has even named a special riesling cuvee 'Bel Canto' in honor of her musical passions.

Their sauvignon blanc - semillon blend is an interesting take on the classic Bordeaux white blend. They ferment the sauvignon blanc in steel and the semillon in oak-- both on their own, natural yeasts. The wines are sur lee prior to blending. An ancient glacier left behind large, round stones which help trap heat in the vineyard and release it slowly at night; similar to Bordeaux's left bank.

I've worked with these wines for several years now, and I've found the aging potential to be marvelous. Five years in, this 2008 sauvignon-semillon blend is still kicking strong, and only showing the earliest signs of tertiary aromas.

There is almost a magic to the timeless semillons of Hunter Valley in Australia. I remember once opening up a Tyrrell's '98 for the first time and expecting it to show hints of oxidation like most whites with over a decade of bottle age. I was blown away by how vibrantly young and taut it was-- the acidity was racing and all the parts were still there-- it could have easily gone a third and fourth decade longer, and I would have blinded it as a much younger wine. And now, hundreds of bottles of semillon later, I am still amazed at the wound-up energy packed inside of aged semillon from this part of Australia.

Take this 2007 Brokenwood Oakey Creek semillon. Six years old and it hasn't even shown signs of settling down. Though the acidity is like licking a fresh cut lemon, there is loads of complexity swimming beneath the surface. I wish this could have aged thirty more years.

Brokenwood is a historic producer to me, because, long before Australia was famous for this grape, winemaker Iain Riggs made sure the facilities were set up for white wine production and with his early vintages he helped put Hunter Valley semillon on the map (along with Tyrrell's, who has been making semillon since the early 1970s).

White wines like these, with such massive aging capabilities, are hard to come by; but I am stocking up on some sleepers for a future era!

Washington state is becoming an increasingly more important player in the US domestic wine market. At a recent lunch featuring the wines of this state, I got to taste through some of the diverse offerings of Washington's wine growing regions.

First up was this Siegerrebe from Lopez Island, part of the San Juan island group in the Puget Sound. Siegerrebe, a grape variety first crossed in Germany about a century ago, is a crossing of Madeline Angevine and Gewürztraminer. It's a grape that can withstand a wet climate, and is one of a few varieties that does well in the San Juan Islands. These grapes were certified organic, and the wine had a highly aromatic nose, similar to Gewürztraminer. The sulfur levels were uncomfortably high for my tastes, but other than that the wine was well balanced and sound.

Then it was on to one of the grapes the Washington state does so well: syrah. I've been enchanted by Cayuse and Syncline in the past and I was very much looking forward to trying this one from Ross Andrew Winery.

Ross Andrew gets this fruit from Boushey Vineyard, a high elevation vineyard in Yakima and Columbia Valley AVAs. The area has a large diurnal temperature swing, and that in combination with the loam soil over basalt help to compose a highly interesting syrah.

The lunch ended with Eroica's 'Single Berry Select,' (that's pretty much an English translation of Trockenbeerenauslese). It's a TBA style wine that's a collaboration between Chateau Ste Michelle and Dr. Loosen. The wine is everything that you'd expect from a collaboration between these two producers.

"Eroica" is the name of Beethoven's third symphony-- a work originally dedicated to Napoleon, but Beethoven revoked the dedication after being dismayed when Napoleon declared himself Emperor.

It's really fascinating to watch the wines that are coming out of Washington State. The region produces such a wide variety of wines and styles; Im truly impressed by the Rhone-style reds and concentrated rieslings. The soil here contains some of the most incredible geology in the world!

In the spirit of an Ancient Greek symposium, a group of friends and I all published posts on the same topic this past weekend. Click through the following to see all articles in this symposium with the topic of 'Wine and the Sea':

The following article is written by my friend Dorit Handrus, as a part of the Wine and the Sea Symposium. I am hosting her article on my website. -Erin

Wine & The Seaby Dorit Handrus

Wine and the Sea, Wine and the Sea… two natural phenomena inextricably and undoubtedly linked, but the relationship between the two in my mind linked up not on the basis of the vineyard’s reflection of the climactic whims of the sea, but on the sea and its history as a transportation medium for wine.The Head (Wine and the Physical Connection to the Sea)…short bit of history Obviously the proximity and influence of the sea to many grape growing regions has magnificent impact on the qualities of varied wines and vineyards all over the world. In Portugal this is especially true where the geographical location subjects a large portion of the country to a coastal or somewhat coastal climate. Recently having been to Portugal for the first time and falling passionately in love with all things Portugal (do I need to note that wine was one of the subjects of my obsession?). I thought it fitting to dedicate this post to such a rich country with deep historical ties to wine and to the sea. Though wine has been part of Portugal since long before the foundation of Portugal as a country international recognition came only as a result of English merchants in Portugal who were put in a “this or nothing” situation when the wine trade with France was forbidden. The first shipment of “Vinho do Porto” took place in 1678 when the English found the rich wines of the Douro Valley to be an acceptable substitute for the unavailable French wines. Despite being 80 kilometers from the sea, the Douro River provided easy access to the city of Porto and out to the sea. The long journey demanded the addition of brandy to prevent the wine from spoiling on its way from Portugal to the eager consumers in England, thus was born the esteemed and singular fortified Port Wine. Since 1756 when it became the first official demarcated wine region by the Marquis de Pombal, the Douro is the world’s only legal producer of Port wine.

The Heart (Wine and the Romantic Connection to the Sea)…what really matters Though Port and its travel by way of the wonderful Atlantic can be credited with getting Portuguese wine an international spot in the ranks of the wine world it is by no means the only worthy Portuguese wine…SO far from it. And while nearly every wine region in Portugal has something different and interesting to offer the wine geek it doesn’t get better or rarer than Colares. So now, let’s make this sound like the fairytale it is. Atop a cliff between the picturesque and fairytale town of Sintra and the shores of the Atlantic Ocean there exists a small parcel of land that remained untouched by the deadly Phylloxera epidemic that wreaked havoc on the vines of the rest of mainland Europe. The smallest DOC in Portugal and the westernmost DOC of mainland Europe is said to have survived the plague thanks to the sea and its having blessed the nearby Colares vineyard with beach sand soil in which to stretch its roots. Here is where powerful gusts from the Atlantic force both the vines and the comingling Reineta (Pippin) apple trees to creep horizontally along the warm sand in this strange and idyllic beach-sand piece of grape heaven.

The red Ramisco grape and the white Malvasia de Colares are of the only ungrafted vines on mainland Europe, apparently producing wines since the 13th century and once yielding enough fruit to supply wine to India and other parts of the world. Once, up to 1 million liters of wine annually were produced where today they might hit the 60-thousand liter mark. Although it is not considered to be particularly difficult to grow either Ramisco or Malvasia, getting to that point is a bit of a challenge. The beach sand here, though able to ward off Phylloxera at one point, is by no means an ideal place for vines to flourish. That is, sand is bad…clay is good. So every time new root stock needs to be planted, they dig. Three to five meters deep. Under the sand is a rich and nourishing layer of clay giving the vines the nutrients they need to survive and produce two grapes worthy enough to warrant the labor necessary to ensure their existence harvest after harvest. Back-breaking manual harvest aside (vines crawl along the sand and are propped up manually to a height of 25 cm just a few weeks before harvest…see photo below for the height at which the grapes will be harvested)

fighting commercial interest is the true battle that Colares vineyards must win. To every non-oenophile this little slice of heaven is meant to be…well, think Malibu, but in Europe on the Atlantic. Yep, a clifftop view of sand, sea, and sun for beach-goers means money for Portugal. Thing is, Malibu never had a grapey treasure anywhere near as rare as what the land in Azenhas do Mar, Colares has to offer. From the 8,000 acres of vineyard of 100 years ago, today what remains is a 13 acre plot of land that, in a generous year, will yield less than two tons of fruit per acre.

So why should the 55 owners (only 3 producers) fight so hard to make sure such an inconsequential amount of wine produced year after year? How about because, most aptly put, THIS WINE IS AWESOME. Forget that this is one of the rarest, most staunchly fought for productions in the wine world. Forget that if you even know what it is you are in the minority. Forget the romance; the wine, the sea, their coexistence and dependence on one another in this magical land of wine. Forget that once it is gone, it is gone forever (as far as anyone knows this is the only place in the world that grows Ramisco and this particular Malvasia). Truth is, as romantic a story as this all may be, it simply would not matter if the wine sucked or was even mediocre. These wines (both the red and the white) are like no other wines on this planet…well I have not happened upon comps in any case. YES…THIS WINE IS AWESOME. So who are three producers lucky enough to get their hands on the Ramisco and Malvasia grapes that are grown by the 55 private owners of this land? About 90% of the harvest goes to the original co-op in Colares, Adega Regional de Colares founded in 1931. Most of the remaining grapes go to the Baeta family who bought Adega Viuva Gomes in 1988. Since 2009 two young winemakers joined in the and are now producing a few hundred bottles of each the Ramisco and the Malvasia under the Monte Cascas label, using the Baeta facilities for vinification.

While my personal favorites are the wines from Cascas (keeping the youth of these wines in mind and hoping they will develop as beautifully as I assume they will in the decades to come), each of the three wineries has an incredible product. The 1992 Ramisco I had from Adega recently, though beautiful, would surely have benefited from waiting a few more years. Recent tastings suggest that bottling from the 50s and 60s are near perfection right about now. Think a crazy mash-up between your softest, silkiest, lightest Volnay and that lovely, tarry, tannic old Barolo you have packed away somewhere. Point is, these wines are good. Just wanted to share with all the wine nerds of the world that there is another fun bottle out there that is definitely worth your time to seek out and kvell over. Happy drinking.